The Fame
by tinuelena
Summary: A Lady Gaga challenge; 16 drabbles/oneshots inspired by each song on the album. K/S slash, stories rated anywhere from K to M. There will be 16 chapters when this is finished.


A/N: Lady Gaga challenge. 16 drabbles/one-shots inspired by each song on the album "The Fame."

More coming soon. I'm publishing them as I go; they'll all be added to this, so if you're interested in the rest, this is the story to subscribe to. xx

1— "Just Dance"

Six empty shot glasses sat in front of James T. Kirk.

"Gimme another," he slurred, and the bartender diligently poured another one.

Out of nowhere, Chekov landed on the bar stool beside him, flushed, a grin lighting his face. "Captain! I didn't know you were so fond of wodka."

He shrugged and downed the shot. "They don't have Romulan ale, and I feel like getting piss drunk."

"Is something the matter?"

He met Chekov's eyes. Chekov was now nineteen, but his eyes were still filled with youthful innocence and pure concern. Kirk had no doubt the ensign's intentions were only to make him feel better, but he could never tell Chekov what was really driving him to consume the bar's entire stock of Absolut. "Nah," Kirk said finally, forcing a smile. "Just bored."

"Come dance with us," he replied, and it was at this moment that Kirk realized Chekov was also three sheets to the wind. "Look—an Orion girl." He elbowed his captain in the side, laughing, then turned to order a drink.

Kirk wanted nothing to do with a girl, Orion or otherwise. His eyes followed Spock, who stood stiffly on the dance floor next to Scotty, who was shamelessly dancing by himself as Sulu fell apart in peals of laughter.

"Let's go!" Armed with a dark beer, Chekov pulled at Kirk's arm.

Listlessly, Kirk followed him across the room and immediately sat at a table next to Bones.

"Why aren't you out there?" Kirk asked Bones, who laughed.

"I'm a doctor."

"Not a dancer?"

"I'm not yet drunk enough to be a dancer."

Kirk grinned. "I'm drunk enough to be just about anything."

Spock joined the table then. "Mr. Scott becomes prone to strange remarks when in an inebriated state," he noted.

"What'd he say?" Bones wanted to know.

A glance at Kirk. "I am afraid I cannot repeat it." He eyed the bowl of sweets in the middle of the table and unwrapped a large chocolate.

Bones eyed him, but said nothing.

Spock then struck up a conversation about recent problems with administering hyposprays to sick Tarellians, which occupied Bones and him for about a half hour, during which time Jim drank a glass of beer and two more shots of vodka.

Four foil wrappers sat in front of Spock. "I believe that the problem may be solved by using weevils."

Bones blinked at him. "What did you just say?"

"Weevils." He swayed in his spot. "No. _Needles."_

The doctor couldn't help but laugh. "Spock, you've had too much chocolate."

Spock responded by unwrapping another and popping it in his mouth. "Though archaic, it may solve the—is—issue."

A little smile crept onto Kirk's lips. "Are you _drunk?_"

He took a long look at his captain. "Yes."

Kirk howled with laughter. "Spock! Spock, get up."

"I—no. Why?"

He stumbled over to Spock and offered him a hand. "C'mon. Get up. Out of the chair."

Spock glared at him. "I am quite confederate. Quite—confetti."

"I don't care if you're comfortable."

"Why must I leave my chair?"

Kirk grinned. "You're going to dance."

Spock's eyes grew wide. "No."

Laughing, Bones slid another piece of chocolate across the table. "Eat another."

"C'mon! It'll be fun."

Spock stared at his captain, quickly unwrapped and ate the chocolate, then permitted Kirk to lead him out to the dancefloor.

They joined Uhura, Scotty, Sulu, Chapel, Rand, and Chekov, who were in a tight little circle dancing to Andorian trazz, which could best be described as a fusion of disco revival and the hip-hop which had been popular in the early 2100's. Chekov had a tie wrapped around his head like a bandana, and his shirt sleeves had been rolled to his shoulders. Uhura's makeup was smeared; Sulu was mastering the art of shaking his ass, while Chapel giggled maniacally.

"Make way," shouted Kirk, "I've got a drunk Vulcan!"

Scotty whistled. "What's your poison, Commander?"

Spock considered this. "Chocolate," he responded.

Laughing, Kirk began to move to the rhythm of the music. Spock stood stiffly, his hands clasped behind his back, watching his crewmates.

"Order him to dance," called Uhura, laughing.

Kirk raised an eyebrow; Spock mirrored the gesture. "You cannot order me to do anything," Spock reminded him. "We are on shore leave."

"I'll help you along," Kirk told him, and pulled Spock's wrists apart.

"If I am going to dance," Spock announced, "I would prefer to do so with a partner."

Kirk gave him a cheeky smile. "All right." Coolly, he stepped in front of Spock, took his wrists, and set Spock's hands on his own hips.

"This is inappropriate."

"Fuck appropriate."

Uhura began singing along to the song, her loud, clear voice ringing in Kirk's ears. Janice arched against Sulu, grinding against him; he gladly took her hip, encouraging her movements with his own. Spock's eyebrow lifted as he saw that _all _of the people dancing with partners were dancing in the same manner and, all of a sudden, he felt incredibly awkward standing behind Kirk.

Kirk leaned into him, pushing, writhing—Spock felt uncomfortable, but started moving, reasoning that less people would stare if they were dancing normally.

Laughing, Uhura paired up with Chapel; Chekov stopped staring at his captain and first officer, and turned to them instead.

Spock found himself enjoying the music. His motion became more fluid, more natural, as he hooked his fingers into Kirk's front pockets and rutted against him—

The captain noticed it first. Spock was hard against him, losing more control with each chorus, letting his hands wander. The room around them was a blur. Spock's hand fit too closely to his hip; he'd lost his communicator.

"You learn quickly," Kirk said over his shoulder.

Spock ran his hands over his captain's thighs. "I am able to adapt to situations."

The vodka had taken away all of Kirk's few inhibitions. He turned suddenly, bringing one hand up to cup the back of his first officer's head, and planted his lips firmly to Spock's.

As he pulled back and his eyes focused, he smiled at the shocked Vulcan. "Illogical?"

"Unexpected," replied Spock. "Not illogical."

"Anything else?" He brushed his hand over Spock's tightened pants.

He drew a sharp breath, closing his eyes to savor the sensation. "Enjoyable."


End file.
